


Disillusion

by local_enginerd



Series: From the Ashes [3]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, also features ice cream, just let these two rest, sad i guess?, they deserve hugs and all the ice cream in the world
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-01
Updated: 2017-07-01
Packaged: 2018-11-21 20:07:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11364696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/local_enginerd/pseuds/local_enginerd
Summary: D.Va is the pilot and former gamer who the country turned to in its darkest hour. Hana Song is the girl who became a soldier at 19. For D.Va to live, every time Hana Song must fade away.History repeats itself. They don't quite stop being soldiers. Or perhaps it is because they cannot. A D.Va character study through a conversation with Reinhardt.





	Disillusion

There is a difference between playing and playing games. The former is an act of joy - the latter an act.

All her life, Hana Song has seen the ravages of the Omnic Crisis, a war she inherited. Again and again, she answered the call when it came. The call that was more than putting on a uniform. The call that meant more than simply getting into a MEKA.

This is how she becomes one of the youngest of the high-ranking military members in history, is it not?

“Ah, I knew I’d find you here, Captain Song.”

Perched atop one of the observation towers on the base, one could see the coastline for miles in any direction.

Hearing no reply from the MEKA pilot, Reinhardt continues quietly. “When I was serving with Overwatch, I’d always find somewhere high up to watch the sunsets after a battle, too. I never quite learned when to rest.”

He almost chuckles for that last part, but there is still a nervous, almost flinty edge to his voice.

The sky above the soldiers is a burning orange, its fringes a sleepy blue. A few jets fly in formation overhead, just visible through the clouds. They circle in patrol, the purr of the jets barely audible to anyone on the ground. It’s calm.

And it feels _wrong._

Beneath them, the earth is charred and littered with the remains of both man and machine.  Yet the calm ocean breeze had long carried away the smells of gunpowder and smoke. Tarps are being pulled over the damaged buildings.

This time, when the sea monster of an Omnic breached the depths of the East China Sea, it had taken the form of a writhing kraken. Unlike the more static artillery it appeared with last, this configuration proved far too slippery for the South Korean military. The beast made landfall in days. Out of options, one of the Korean generals had contacted Reinhardt Wilhelm, the famed crusader, to engage the Omnic’s ground forces, aiding the MEKA division. His decades of experiences fighting Omnic in all configurations would prove invaluable. He, too, answered the call.

Now, the old soldier seems out of place to Hana, in a t-shirt and fatigues, without the metal suit. Behind the scars and unruly lion’s mane of white hair, she sees just a man weary of war. If there is anyone in the world who understands what she feels, it is Reinhardt. The two soldiers were the opposite sides of the same coin. Hana was doubted, thought to be far too young to lead. Reinhardt was pushed aside by bureaucrats and red tape, ridiculed as a relic of the past. This is how the two soldiers stand before the crossroads, unsure of how to breach the subject. In the end, it is the young pilot who finally punctures the silence.

“Herr Wilhelm, why is that I’m scared most by the quiet?” Hana asks softly. Yet, her voice is unwavering. “I’m never afraid when I’m in the MEKA.”

She wonders idly if he feels as exposed as she does without the armor.

“Up here, Reinhardt is just fine,” the German begins with a gentle smile. “Hm, I suppose...for soldiers like us, the quiet is a space we are unaccustomed to...Putting all the pieces together in a space that doesn’t seem to fit.”

“How did you do it, again and again?”

“Well, I didn’t. Not really,” Reinhardt mulls over the question for a moment. They wince as he sits; the old soldier’s knees give out an audible pop. “How long have you known war?”

“You’re not going to tell me I’m too young to be fighting, are you? Or that I don’t belong here?”

“No.” The old soldier smiles knowingly. The pilot’s retort reminds him of the fire he once knew in Ana Amari and her daughter. As the memory ebbs away, he broaches the subject again. “Unless that is what you want to hear.

As Hana turns to Reinhardt, she notices that he’s brought a peace offering of sorts. The German is holding two ice creams, one in each hand. Where he acquired such a thing in a warzone, she doesn’t ask, but Hana accepts the one he places in her hand.

“Thank you.” Hana takes an experimental taste of her ice cream, only now realizing how exhausted she is.

_It’s peach, her favorite._

In another life, she remembers clambering all over the gnarled branches of her grandmother’s peach tree in the garden. Climbing to the top to pluck the ripe ones. The long, curling leaves tickling her arms. Her mother wiping the sap off her cheeks afterwards. All but a distant memory.

“I guess I was born into the war,” Hana finally concedes. “I don’t really remember a time when we weren’t fighting it.”

There is truth to this. Growing up, Hana had seen her older relatives whisked away to the front lines. They never quite returned, not fully. She herself only indulged in her gaming career briefly during a phase of the Sea Omnic’s inactivity. And even that had to be cut short when scientists heard rumbles of activity beneath the waves.

“You are very brave, Hana,” the old soldier faces her. Hana studies his face; he’s bearing neither pity nor fear like so many others who look at her, but instead some sort of recognition. “Why is it that _you_ fight?”

Because there was nothing else I could do. Because I don’t want anyone to know loss like I have. Because my country called me, she wants to say.

Certainly, there were other candidates for the MEKA’s pilot program, but Hana could no longer sit idly by as her countrymen fell to the Omnic. Her fans had turned to her streams as an escape, albeit momentarily, from the horrors around them. If she had the chance to defend them from their demons for good, then so be it.

“Because I have to protect my people, any way I can.” Again, her voice is unwavering, sure. The wind pulls the clouds into tufts, dappling the sky. The setting sun casts a warm glow on their tawny undersides.

“You sound like me, when I was younger,” the German sighs. Some of the ice cream, beginning to melt, drips from the cone onto his hand.

Hana stifles her mirth as he raises the treat, trying to lick his hand clean. Reinhardt’s beginning to look quite silly now, specks of ice cream caught in his mustache. He reminded her a lot of her own grandfather, who was probably at home hearing of the battle on the holovid. She helps herself to a bit of her own ice cream, letting his words sink in. Her voices wavers, just this once when she replies. “I’m not sure how to stop fighting sometimes. You feel it too, don’t you?”

“Ah yes, but Hana Song and D.Va are two different people.” 

D.Va is the pilot and former gamer who the country turned to in its darkest hour. Hana Song is the girl who became a soldier at 19.

“You cannot keep both yourself and the illusion alive forever.” He adds, voice slipping into a whisper. Beneath his loud, bumbling exterior, the old man is far sharper than he seems.  Or perhaps he knows from experience.

(The Reinhardt who brought her ice cream is not the loud, glory-seeking Crusader she’s seen on the battlefield, this much she knows.)

In truth, she is afraid. Afraid that she will not be enough the next time the Omnic resurfaces. Afraid to go home with all her ghosts. Afraid that she will never know anything but the war. For D.Va to live, every time Hana Song must fade away.

“It’s true, we all have our own dragons to slay,” Reinhardt’s voice punctuates her thoughts once again. “But it is not a burden you must bear alone.”

Hana considers his advice, savoring the last bits of her ice cream as she does so.

“Thank you, Reinhardt.”

“No need to thank me, but well, _ahem_ ,” he coughs awkwardly, fishing in the pockets of his uniform. His one good eye darts away for a moment, focusing on a speck of dust on his boots. “I was hoping you could sign something for me. It’s, ah, for a friend.”

He produces a promotional image of the bright pink, rabbit-shaped MEKA. The small poster is crumpled slightly and seems comically small in the hand of the old soldier.

Hana raises an eyebrow at him, but she acquiesces and signs the picture of her MEKA anyways. She hesitates briefly, finally writing _Hana_ instead of the customary _D.Va_ her fans had come to know. If he had noticed, Reinhardt spoke nothing of it.

They sit in silence, admiring the sky above, now a deep purple. The sun hangs on the edge of the horizon, the lingering light bouncing with the movements of the waves.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Disillusion[Podfic]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13575639) by [Arioch](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arioch/pseuds/Arioch)




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